The Next Morning

The first thing I registered wasn't the light, but the weight. The heavy, fluffy blanket felt like it weighed a ton, pinning us both to the mattress in a warm, scent-filled cocoon. Outside the sanctuary of the comforter, the air in the room was sharp and biting—I could tell just by the way the tip of my nose felt like ice. But underneath? Underneath, it was a furnace.

I shifted slightly, my muscles feeling that dull, satisfied ache that only comes after a night like the one we'd had. My eyes blinked open, adjusting to the pale, hazy winter light filtering through the window. The kitchen light we'd left on as a dim glow was now a pathetic, flickering yellow against the grey morning.

I looked down, and my heart did a slow, heavy thud in my chest.

She was still out cold, her head tucked perfectly into the crook of my shoulder, her hair a wild, dark silk mess across my chest. Seeing her like this, completely relaxed and trusting, hit me harder than the adrenaline of the night before. I carefully peeled back a layer of the blanket just enough to look at her. Her skin was pale against the dark sheets, but I could see the faint, rosy remnants of where my hands had been—the marks on her hips and the slight flush on her thighs that I'd promised her last night. It made a possessive heat flare up in my gut all over again.

I reached down, my fingers grazing the soft curve of her waist. She stirred, let out a tiny, high-pitched hum of protest against the cold air I'd let in, and subconsciously burrowed deeper into my side. Her small body was so incredibly warm, and the way she clung to me in her sleep made me feel like I owned the world.

I remembered what I told her before we finally fell into a daze—that we had the whole day to sleep. But looking at her now, with her lips slightly parted and the scent of our shared night lingering on her skin, sleep was the last thing on my mind.

I leaned down, pressing my cold nose against her warm neck, trailing a line of lazy, lingering kisses up to her earlobe. She shivered, her eyelashes fluttering as she began to wake up.

"Mmm... stop," she whispered, though her arms did the exact opposite, tightening around my neck to pull me closer. Her voice was raspy, thick with sleep, and it was the sexiest thing I'd ever heard.

"I told you last night," I murmured into her skin, my hand sliding down to find that familiar, squishy curve of her butt beneath the sheets. I gave it a firm, playful squeeze, making her breath hitch. "I wasn't done with you. And it's a long time until sunset."

She finally opened her eyes, looking up at me with a hazy, glowing smile that told me she wasn't planning on getting out from under this blanket anytime soon. 

The cold room didn't matter; as long as we were tangled like this, the winter could stay outside forever.

The contrast of her sleepy, hazy smile and the mischievous spark in my own chest was the perfect start to the morning. The room was still freezing—I could see our breath in the faint morning light—but under that massive, heavy comforter, the heat was becoming unbearable in the best way possible.

I watched her for a moment as she tried to pull the blanket higher, hiding her face like she was shy after everything that happened. I wasn't going to let her hide. I liked it when she was exposed to me, especially when she was acting all innocent.

"You're trying to hide?" I whispered, a dark, playful edge to my voice. I reached under the covers, my hand finding the soft, bare curve of her hip. "After you kept me up half the night? I don't think so. You need to be punished for even thinking about sleeping in when I'm right here."

She let out a little gasp, her eyes widening as she realized I wasn't just talking. She tried to squirm away, a playful giggle escaping her lips, but I was faster. I hooked my arm around her waist and hauled her back toward the center of the mattress, rolling her onto her stomach.

The sight of her—completely bare, her skin still slightly flushed from the friction of the sheets—was too much. My eyes landed on her butt, those "bubbly" curves I'd been obsessing over all night. They looked even better in the soft morning light.

"Stay," I commanded softly.

When she tried to wiggle again, I didn't hesitate. I brought my hand down in a sharp, firm slap right across the center of one cheek. The sound—a loud, meaty crack—echoed in the quiet room. She let out a sharp cry, half-moan and half-shock, burying her face into the pillow as her skin immediately bloomed a bright, pretty pink.

"That's for trying to run away," I murmured, leaning over her so my chest was pressed against her back. I didn't stop there. I started kneading the soft flesh I'd just marked, my fingers digging in just enough to make her whimper.

I moved my attention upward, sliding my hands under her to reach her breasts. They were so warm, swaying slightly as she breathed heavily against the mattress. I cupped them both, teasing the tips with my thumbs until they were peaked and sensitive. I leaned down, biting the back of her neck gently while my hands worked on her, squeezing and pulling just enough to walk that line between pleasure and a "punishment" she clearly enjoyed.

"Please..." she breathed out, her back arching instinctively into my touch.

"Please what?" I teased, my voice a low vibration against her skin. I gave her other cheek a stinging slap, making her jump. "You haven't even apologized for trying to go back to sleep yet."

I flipped her over then, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. She looked up at me, her hair fanned out, her lips swollen from my kisses, and her chest heaving. She looked wrecked in the best way possible.

I leaned down, my mouth hovering just inches from hers. Instead of kissing her lips, I moved to her breasts, catching one nipple between my teeth and giving it a sharp, playful nip. She cried out, her hips bucking up to meet mine, her body practically begging for me to stop the teasing and actually take her.

"I think you need a lot more punishment before breakfast," I growled, looking down at her. "And luckily for you, I'm feeling very patient this morning."

The cold air in the room was a distant memory; the space beneath the comforter had become a world of its own, fueled entirely by the heat radiating off our bodies. I had her pinned beneath me now, her wrists held firmly above her head. She looked beautiful—flushed, breathless, and completely at my mercy.

"You were so quiet last night," I whispered, my voice dropping an octave as I leaned closer to her ear. "Trying so hard to hold it in. But we're the only ones here now. I want to hear exactly what I'm doing to you."

To prove my point, I let go of her wrists only to slide my hand back down to her thigh, gripping the soft skin of her inner leg and pulling it upward. I delivered another firm, stinging slap to her butt, harder this time. The sound was sharp, and she let out a loud, high-pitched cry that echoed off the bedroom walls.

"Better," I murmured, a satisfied smirk tugging at my lips.

I moved my hand to her chest, my palm flat against her heart, feeling it thudding like a trapped bird. I began to toy with her again, using my teeth to catch the sensitive skin of her shoulder, biting just hard enough to leave a mark. Every time she tried to stifle a sound, I found a new way to draw it out of her. I moved my hand down, my fingers wandering to that "bubbly" curve I loved so much, squeezing and kneading the skin until she was squirming under me.

"I told you I was greedy," I reminded her, my hand traveling back to her breasts. I caught her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, giving it a sharp, playful tug.

She let out a strangled moan, her head tossing back into the pillow. "Please... you're being so mean," she whimpered, though the way she was arching her back told a completely different story.

"Am I?" I asked, sliding my hand lower, back to the wet heat I'd discovered earlier. I didn't give her what she wanted, though. I just brushed my fingers against her, circling and teasing, never quite staying in one place long enough for her to catch her breath. "I think I'm being very fair. Every time you try to stay quiet, you get a little reminder."

I delivered a quick succession of three light slaps to her butt, the thwack-thwack-thwack making her hips buck uncontrollably. She finally broke, a loud, unrestrained moan vibrating through the air, her fingers digging into the mattress as she lost her battle with composure.

I loved the way her body reacted to the "punishment"—the way her skin stayed hot and pink, the way her breath came in ragged hitches. I leaned down and captured her lips in a deep, demanding kiss, muffling her next cry as I increased the pressure of my hand between her legs.

"That's it," I growled against her mouth, feeling the vibrations of her voice in my own chest. "Let me hear you. I want the neighbors to know exactly how much you like this."

I shifted my weight, pinning her down more firmly, my mind racing with all the ways I could keep this going. I wasn't even close to being satisfied, and by the look in her glazed eyes, she was starting to realize that the morning was going to be much longer—and much louder—than she ever expected.

I watched her face as I continued, looking for that specific glimmer in her eyes. I knew her well enough to know that while she was whimpering, she wasn't trying to get away—she was leaning into the sting. She was chasing the sensation just as much as I was.

"You like this, don't you?" I whispered, my voice thick with a dark sort of pride. "You like being a little bit of a mess for me."

I didn't wait for an answer. I moved her again, pulling her legs over my shoulders so she was completely open to me. The contrast was incredible—the cool morning air hitting her skin while the heat between us practically sizzled. I reached back, my palm making contact with the soft, reddened skin of her butt in a rhythmic, heavy beat. Thwack. Thwack. Each time, her hips jerked, and a fresh, loud moan broke from her lips. She wasn't trying to hide it anymore. Her fingers were knotted into the bedsheets, knuckles white, as she arched her back. She looked beautifully wrecked, her skin glowing and flushed from the "punishment."

"Look at you," I growled, my hand moving from her butt to the inside of her thighs, gripping the sensitive skin there firmly. "You're shaking. Is it too much? Should I stop?"

"No," she gasped out, her eyes half-lidded and glazed with heat. She reached out, her hand trembling as she grabbed the front of my hair, pulling me back down toward her. "Don't you dare stop."

That was all the green light I needed to take it further. I shifted my focus back to her breasts, which were heaving with her heavy breathing. I began to treat them with the same "firm" affection, kneading the soft tissue and using my teeth to graze the tips until she was crying out my name. I was being greedy, using my mouth, my hands, and my weight to pin her down, making sure she felt every ounce of my attention.

I moved my hand down to her soft folds, which were now slick and dripping, a clear sign of how much she was enjoying every "punishing" touch. I started to tease her there—not giving her the steady rhythm she was begging for, but instead using sharp, fluttering movements and then pulling away just as she reached the edge.

"You've been so loud this morning," I teased, nipping at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. "I think you need to be rewarded for that... but not quite yet."

I gave her one last, stinging slap on the hip, watching the way her body bucked and then melted into the mattress. She was a beautiful contradiction—shivering from the cold air but burning up from the inside out. Her moans had turned into desperate, needy little sounds that made my own self-control start to crumble.

I could see the way her chest rose and fell, the way she was looking at me with a mix of defiance and absolute longing. She wanted me to stop the teasing and finally finish what I started.

"Please," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I can't... I can't take anymore teasing."

I hovered over her, my body aligned with hers, feeling the frantic heat of her skin. I knew I had pushed her just far enough.

Seeing her like that—completely undone, her skin flushed a deep rose from my hands, and her eyes searching mine with that raw, desperate hunger—finally snapped the last thread of my restraint. I'd had my fun teasing her, but the way she was whispering "please" made my own heart hammer against my ribs like it was trying to break free.

"Okay," I rasped, my voice sounding foreign even to me. "No more games."

I shifted, settling my weight between her thighs, feeling the incredible heat radiating from her. The transition from the stinging "punishments" to the blunt, heavy pressure of my body against hers made her let out a long, shaky breath. I reached down, my hands sliding under her hips to lift her just enough, my thumbs brushing over the marks I'd left on her butt—a visual reminder of the last hour that made my pulse spike.

When I finally moved to bridge the gap, the air in the room seemed to vanish.

The first contact was slow, deliberate, and intense. I watched her face as I finally gave her what she'd been begging for. Her head fell back into the pillow, her eyes fluttering shut as a low, guttural moan—not a quiet one this time, but a deep, soulful sound—escaped her throat. It was the best thing I'd ever heard.

I didn't rush. I wanted to feel every second of it, and I wanted her to feel it too. I leaned down, pinning her hands beside her head again, but this time my grip was soft, almost a caress. I buried my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin and the cold winter air that still clung to the edges of the blanket.

"You're so warm," I whispered against her skin, the words vibrating between us.

As I found a rhythm, the playful "punishments" of the morning melted into something much deeper and more urgent. The  heavy comforter rustling as we moved together, creating a private, sweltering world in the middle of the freezing house. Every time I moved, she let out a broken little sound, her fingers digging into my shoulders, pulling me closer as if she couldn't get enough.

I watched the way the dim amber light from the kitchen caught the sweat on her brow and the flush on her chest. She looked like a masterpiece I'd painted with my own hands. The desperation peaked, the teasing long forgotten as we both started chasing the same end. My movements grew heavier, faster, driven by a need that went beyond just being "greedy." I wanted to mark this moment, this morning, so she'd never forget it.

When the end finally came, it was like a physical collapse. She cried out my name, her body tensing and then shivering in waves beneath me. I followed her a second later, the release so sharp it made my head spin.

I collapsed onto her, careful not to crush her, our breathing the only sound in the quiet room. We were both slick with sweat despite the cold, our hearts racing in sync. I pulled the heavy, fluffy blanket back over our heads, sealing us back into our warm, dark cocoon.

I rolled onto my side, pulling her back against my chest, her smaller frame fitting perfectly against me. I pressed a lingering kiss to the back of her neck, right over one of the faint marks I'd left earlier.

"See?" I murmured, my voice heavy with exhaustion and satisfaction. "I told you we had all day."

She didn't answer with words, just a soft, contented sigh as she tangled her fingers with mine and drifted back toward a much-deserved sleep.

The End~~